


A Heart Revealed

by Aminias



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter, Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Stiles, Canon Rewrite, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Multi, Revisionist Fairy Tale, SO IN LOVE YOU DONT EVEN KNOW MATE, Season/Series 01, Stiles Stilinski as Little Red Riding Hood, THEY ARE SUPER IN LOVE, but not, love at first snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8926009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aminias/pseuds/Aminias
Summary: “A heart revealed is a heart kept. “~“My feeling aren't figurative!” the Boy screams. It is many things. A threat, a promise, the first cry of an eagle taking wing.





	1. The Wolf & The Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiranightshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranightshade/gifts).



> chapter one of two maybe more in series but just two in this here
> 
> big thanks to Ocean who did a lot of excellent swift beta work !
> 
> [PLEASE CHECK OUT THE STETER SHIRT](https://www.customink.com/g/bcb0-00av-nz7q)  
> 

_ This is the story they don't tell. _

 

If you look long and hard, with sharp eyes, keen interest, and a dash of bravery, you will find him. 

The heart of the woods. 

The Wolf. 

The very treetops shake with each snap of his jaws. The mightiest oaks creak shrilly with warning. The earth trembles after his every step. In times like these, all of the forest creatures cower. 

_ No, first there is the Moon and the Wolf.  _

 

The Wolf is not the beast we know now. Oh no. His coat is dark, shadowed as the pitch black night. His eyes wretched things hewn of stray sunbeams twisted into sinister gold; malevolent and lonesome. 

_ Yes, lonesome.  _

 

The Moon has always been, and always will be, even now. Oh yes, it is structured of the finest stones- the most succulent dreams which chase comets that play tag with galaxies and haunt falling stars, essence captured and cobbled into one craterous being. 

Lovely. 

Not so much lonesome as alone. 

 

_ No one ever asked -  _ either _ \- but the Moon. _

 

Laughter, the echo of the Roman empire as it crumbled, circled the night.

The Moon woke from their slumber. “Who calls? What are you?” 

“I rend, therefore I am,” cackled the Wolf in reply, because he was not as much an impolite creature as a pointlessly cryptic one, not use to conversing with much besides his meals. 

“I see you are one.” _ Alone _ thought the Moon.

The Wolf snarled, teeth gleaming sharper than the tip of a thousand spears, claws more brilliant than a hundred blades.

“I _ might _ be one, however, I  _ could _ demolish cities and lay waste to lands with only a murder of crows in my wake. Ravens courier the message of my destruction. I _ might _ be the scourge of corpses. I am every warrior who prays for another day fighting death, so fervent is his lust for life that he has crafted me to his sigil, I _ might  _ reach out with my fangs and rip apart their enemy.” 

“Could.” agreed the Moon for they felt amiable. 

They both contemplated this for some time as a lone owl cried its lament from the nearby wood. 

“Would you?” asked the Moon.

“I could,” conceded the Wolf, as that is enough. It loomed over the surrounding grasses in the way pines tower over roses.

The Moon was not impressed. 

* * *

 

“Would you?” asks the Boy. 

“I could,” concedes the Wolf, as that is enough. He towers over the boy in the way skyscrapers do small developments. 

“I -  _ could _ ,” confides the Boy, words nearly stolen by the breeze. 

The Wolf howls with mirth, shaking the very treetops to their trunks.

“Oh no.” The Wolf shook his muzzle, settling back on his haunches.

The Boy scowls. “I  **could** ,” he repeats louder this time with the unshakeable confidence prone to youths. The words echo into the night playing chase with the leaves on the trees. 

“I believe you.” The Wolf's teeth snap inches beneath where blood frantically pumps through the heart and into veins. 

“Good, because it’s true,” professed the Boy with a wry smile. 

* * *

 

“I govern the tides and sink whole fleets of ships with my rage. I make entire mountains disappear. Men flee in terror with the loss of my beacon.” The Moon confessed with a whisper. 

“I believe you,” grinned the Wolf, lips stretching back to reveal jagged teeth. 

“The heartbeat never lies, though the organ might lead us astray.” The Wolf's tongue began lolling out in pleasure.

“I have no heartbeat,” murmured the Moon. 

The Wolf puzzled this over, muzzle twitching into a sly smile.

“But you do, fair Moon,” the Wolf eagerly began. “The pulse of your heart lay with the stream as she races by, the night air as it dances across the land, and the fireflies who in turn ignite the sky by your favor, the shadow which echoes your grace fleeting behind each light tendril of your touch." The Wolf shook his great pelt, jaws snapping in fierce promise. 

"You do have a heart, dear Moon. I will sing of it till all dawns and men understand this too.”

_ And the Moon was charmed.  _

 

* * *

 

“You do have a heart,” remarks the Boy moving upright once more.

“Who, me?” The Wolf stalks forward a step, flashing his teeth. “None at all.” 

“I would have doubted but for maybe hearing it beat as you slobbered all over me.” Hysterics edging into his laugh, the last cry of a mouse caught in a Falcon’s claws. 

“I can hear the sound of yours pulsing out your chest at this very moment,” the Wolf says, the heat of his breath making the Boy shudder. “Careful, my jaws might slip.”

“A real life lie detector,” rambles the Boy, seeming awed and uncowed face open as the sky. “Cause’ they have one down at the station and if your heart bips it picks it up. Scott and I use a similar frequency to listen in on calls.” 

The Wolf snorts and tilts his head, thoughts concealed as rocks in lake depths. 

“That's how you ended up in woods, isn’t it?” States the Wolf. “Your heart’s skyrocketing.” He murmurs with a satisfied smile. “I’m right.”

“Mine’s usually fast, it’s the meds- oh hmm great - you don’t need a machine, too cool for that -”

The Wolf huffs. This close, the rust coloring his fangs is visible to the naked eye. 

“And all- and anyway...” The Boy stops, mouth falling open. “Did you just laugh?”

“No,” scoffs the Wolf with a rumble of his great chest.

“Come on admit it, you're laughing, you think I’m funny.” The Boy pokes the beast's chest.

The Wolf narrows his gaze, tilting his muzzle down. He sniffs at the Boy’s clothes, listening to his musings. “What I meant is, well... Your fur is like the bleakest of nights. Like the darkness of the ocean’s depths. It rivals the gloom of the trenches, with the unnatural shine of an oil spill. It makes you glimmer under the light as if made of a thousand colors-HEY! That's cold.” 

The Wolf removes his nose from where it is pressed into the bone of the Boy's hips.

“I- “ 

The Wolf gives a low growl, urging him to continue. 

The Boy swallows. “Right, colors- fracturing through a prism into one radiance, that’s your coat. Fangs -wicked by the way- are thick as the width of my wrist and sharper than a tactical knife. I bet your eyes-” The Boy inhales sharply - now looking at them fully for the first time. 

“Go on,” says the Wolf, great chest scarcely rising and falling as his gaze locks with the human’s. 

“Your eyes,” the Boy states, “are magnificent… rubies, gems of the earth... Combined with your claws, you look like something from the bowels of Tartarus. Dante’s Demons given life... primal.”

The Wolf cocks his head. 

The Boy's eyes widens and his hands flutters as if to gesture. His fingers desperately feel for the nearest thing... The Wolf. “Your heart is strong and steady at this.” He reaches out with his hand, burying it into the Wolf's fur. He gasps in surprise and delight when the soft ruff recedes into skin beneath his fingers, till he is touching a firmly sculpted chest. 

The Boy blinks eyes saucer wide. “Steadier - than mine especially now that-” He gestures vaguely at the Wolf's human shape. “-you...” 

The larger beast nuzzles the Boy at the crook of his shoulder briefly, then draws back smirking.

“Yeah- ok - not overthinking this,” the Boy decides. “I could keep waxing poetic all night till dawn if you wanted about how- how-” He stutters, tongue darting out to trace his lips. He tries to pull his hand back only for the Wolf to grip that wrist delicately between his large paw-sized hands. The Boy pants, chest heaving, eyelashes fluttering open and closed. 

“How I’m what,” growls the Wolf in his ear.

“Beautiful.” 

_ And the Wolf was charmed. _

 

* * *

 

The Wolf howls an ode to the Moon's beauty, composing sonnets of their rays that bathe him each night.

 

The Moon clothes the Wolf in the most dashing of silvers and bathes him in the tenderest of greys.

 

_ And the Wolf was entranced.  _

  
  


The Wolf trades winks with their craters under the distant heavens.

 

The Moon’s heart shines before his eyes under the faint starlight.

  
_ This is the story they don't tell. _


	2. The Wolf & The Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My feeling aren't figurative!” the Boy screams. It is many things. A threat, a promise, the first cry of an eagle taking wing.

_ This is the story they don't tell. _

  
  


The Boy tries to ensnare the Wolf and hunts for even a glimpse of him, defies every warning.

 

“You shouldn’t be here.” The very night wraps herself around them and the Moon, a silent sentinel, beams down at them from above. Her beams touches skin, illuminating every crevice and wrinkle, pinpointing the arch of those wicked lips. He’s a man now, the kind with scars on the outside that match the interior. _ Beautiful _ thinks the boy. 

“Please, it's not like you didn’t already come with a warning label.” 

“Was it the red eyes that gave it away?” 

“More the aura of-  _ ehm _ ...” The boys opens his arms wide and nearly topples over. He might be pale as the moon, but only a shadow of her grace lingers with him. 

“Creepiness?” The Wolf offers, muscle rippling with every move.

“Wildness…” The boy whispers backing into a tree as the man strides closer.

He breathes in. Then a firm hand is at his shoulder and he’s giving ground, till his back’s brushing the tree. His heart has lodged itself in his throat, desperate as a bird caged behind bars. “You wear it like a cloak, big bad, all the forest is your kingdom.”

“Then what does that make you?” The man purrs. “Little red?” It isn’t so much a smile on his face as a dare. 

“I wouldn’t say  _ so little  _ anymore.” He lifts his chin. He’s come a long way from that first night in the woods, for all that he’s still layers of fragile bone and defense wrapped in a brittle skin package. His bat is clutched in his left hand, its weight rests on his mind like a judge’s gavel.

“Darling…” says the Wolf and there's nothing gentle in his voice, even as his hand comes to rest around the boy's wrist. “You’ve always been gifted.” He brings the delicate limb to his lips, thumbing gently over the rushing pulse. It is there in the midst of the bramble thicket, fireflies glimmering in and out of existence, the Boy bathed in starlight, that the man's lips make promises fervent as prayers. 

  
  


Wolves mate for life… That’s just it, life. Like that explains everything.  _ Do you have to be so literal about this? _  His words burn, hopes crumbling to ash in their wake. Flames do more than devor, they also create. From soot and ash to the faithful rises life, kindled anew. 

“My feeling aren't figurative!” the Boy screams. It is many things. A threat, a promise, the first cry of an eagle taking wing.  Fire attempts to claims the land, twisting everything in a wave of mass devastation. The fiery demon seeks the Wolf but misses it mark searing the man instead.  

The Boy leaps. preferring to be scorched from the face of the earth than allow his beloved to disintegrate. 

It makes no difference.

 

Headstones are landmarks for the living to keep watch on the dead. His Wolf doesn’t have one. His Wolf isn’t dead. He’s not going to give up now even if he has to bring the bastard back himself just so he can slap some sense into him. There is a space somewhere between his rib cage and his shoulders that doesn’t feel the same. He thinks of the woods during the full moon .. He thinks of the Wolf. The Boys eyes become flint, set off by the smallest of spark, just one push and everything ignites. 

The Wolf faces trial by fire, he rises graver, his ghost haunts the Boy’s every step, disciple at an absent god’s altar. 

The Boy longs for the Wolf, will never stop longing. 

“Peter I -” 

“Stiles...”

_ Till he makes him his, his… Forever _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Further things to note <3 The Moon is Stiles The Wolf is Peter but if you look close at past chapter you will notice well lets not give it away ;) this is far from over marked complete until more

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun doing this! I hope kiranigtshade enjoysreading it as much as I did creating it!


End file.
